


Poison Queen

by Elys



Category: Harry Potter - J. K. Rowling
Genre: Alternate Universe - Hogwarts, Anal Sex, Anger, Angst, Character Development, Confusion, Desire, F/M, Freeform, Hurt/Comfort, Kinky, Light BDSM, Lust, Manipulative Tom Riddle, Oral Sex, Original Character(s), Pain, Possessive Tom Riddle, Public Sex, Romance, Rough Sex, Sane Tom Riddle, Semi-Public Sex, Shower Sex, Smut, Tags May Change, Vaginal Sex, Wall Sex, Young Tom Riddle, kind of, power
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2017-05-18
Updated: 2017-11-27
Packaged: 2018-11-02 07:40:26
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence, Rape/Non-Con
Chapters: 3
Words: 14,641
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/10940007
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Elys/pseuds/Elys
Summary: "I accept the challenge, Miss Travers," Riddle said. "I will be waiting for our final duel impatiently. And all you said, Miss Travers, I accept it as a high-level compliment. I will not hurt you, so you can mute your magic." "It's not that simple, Riddle." she snapped, She wanted to be a Queen, he wanted to rule the world. What happens, when two souls, that desire the power meet?





	1. The Black Queen

**Author's Note:**

> The "Poison" comes from the song "Poison" by Rita Ora . I fell in love with this song, and at the time, when the outlines of the story began to appear, I knew I was going to use it. "Queen" is the highest noble title for a woman. I wanted the Maleficent title to outrun Tom's title.
> 
> I am not native English speaker, so please, don't hate me for my mistakes.
> 
> I don't own Harry Potter. Rowling do.
> 
> Enjoy and please share you thoughts about it!

**These are your foot soldiers. They have the least freedom and the least power, but because they're willing to sacrifice themselves for their betters you can't win without them.(...) This is your rook – the king's fortress. It is the only piece on the board that can legally take the king's place at any time. Its role is to confuse the enemy. (...)The bishop. Slick and dangerous, he has huge power. I think of him as the queen's bit of rough.(...) The king. Almost always weaker than you'd think – all the pieces protect him but he almost never helps anyone else, because if he does he could die. (...)The queen. She's a complete bitch. But if you want to win, you have got to work with her.**

**C. J. Daugherty "Night School"**

She threw her long jet black waves on the arm of the leather armchair. Her slender legs were overhanging on the other side, painting in the air notes familiar only to her. Green eyes stared passionately at the flames, tracking its every lick. The fingers of the left hand were tapping on the seeable ribs as if they were the keys in her favourite piano, and the fingers of her right hand played a completely different melody.

From the mouth came murmurs, quiet whispers, sounding like words. An educated musician, having seen her, might think she had no idea what she was doing. The movements of her feet, her hands, and the sounds she made were in no way connected with each other.

_Because they do not have to connect_ , she would answer, _They are thoughts, galloping in my mind, not allowing me to sleep, not allowing me to breathe._

_It's a libretto_ , she added, _which can not be heard_.

Her peers would say she was mad. They would say that it is not proper for a woman her age to sit in a dark room at such late hour, even if it is a Common Room of her House. They would say that it does not fit for her to sit in that way, her hair not combed, she was not dressed in the best garments, but in one of her oldest nightgowns.

_You bring shame to your family_ , her stepmother would say with disgust, _You also embarrass me and my son. Why can't you be like others girls your age?_

_You are not my mother_ , she said for the first time, ignoring the presence of her father, _You are only the woman my father is **fucking**._

Her father had never hit her before. The daughter did not know whether it was a curse, her behaviour towards her stepmother, a blinding truth, or a memory of her mother. The girl did not apologize despite the father's request. Later, threats only aggravated the matter. The thirteen-year-old ride off of every her dress, skirt, shirt, blouse, which was in a bright shade. She has thrown away all necklaces, rings, earrings and bracelets that were not her mother's.

Her eyes were no longer bright, her lips were not smiling. The mansion was quiet and grim, the brunette's voice no longer decorated her father and stepmother's balls, the piano stood in a dusty room not touched for three years.

She is sixteen now, she is in Peron 9 and ¾, her father is standing in front of her, her stepmother is beside him, and she sobs because she has to part with her dearest son, Edmund. She orders him to stay away from trouble, from this Eileen Prince, who poisoned his young mind and if he cannot handle something, then he has to go to his older sister.

Father tries to reach to her, says goodbye, wishes her good luck on befriending Robert Lestrange or Orion Black. Their family is a family of pureblood wizards, there was never a half-blood, muggle-born, muggle. For generations, they have been close to the Malfoys, the Flints and the Zabinis. They were related to one of the Peverell brothers, Ignotus, which meant that they were on a one family tree with Salazar Slytherin, but it was not in a beautiful straight line, so it was impossible to prove and display it. They had the status of a respectable, wealthy wizard family, although the desire to do more wandered somewhere in the middle.

Father touched her throat with his fingertips, then move up to her cheek. She did not shake, though her skin had burned her with the spectre of events several years ago. Her father's eyes were gentle, full of love and parental pride, but also sad. He pulled her to him, dipped his face in her hair, absorbed her scent because he will not feel it until December.

She was a copy of her mother, she did not resemble father in any way. Hair, eyes, nose, mouth, facial features, body posture. The only thing that belonged to her was voice and character, so different from her mother. The voice was angelic, not high nor low, perfect for singing, and with her present appearance, so unlike her. Her mother was a sweet woman, always smiling, full of joy. If she had not died, her daughter would have been the same.

_Answer all the letters, all right?_ , he begged, _Not only those about the grades or making wishes for more money or permissions. Please, sweetheart, only you..._

_Do **not** say anything_ , she interrupts him, _And do not lie, because it does not fit you. I'm not coming back this year for Christmas._

She grabbed the trunk and did not even look back when her father was calling for her, pleading. Since that day, two weeks have passed, not much has changed, except for the mass of letters that just burned in the fireplace. She did not read any of them, but she felt that Edmund would come to her in a few days, passing on the bitter words from her father. They will not send the howler, for that she was sure it would be a foul on the honour of their family.

The fire slowly died down, her body was aching, her jaw accustomed to constant clenching was pleased with the change. She did not sleep a wink all night, lying in a chair in the same position without changing the repertoire of gestures. She did not have to worry about classes, it was Saturday, for several hours if her inner clock was not wrong, so she would not be worried about sleeping on them today.

It was gossip that worried her. She could only find out about them at meals, having just heard the conversation of other students. She could not boast of a large number of acquaintances, mainly, because her behaviour changed. In the third grade, she was a social butterfly, and she would have dared to say that even Gryffindors were ready to be friend with her, despite the gap between the Houses. Everything changed when she realized she was a Slytherin. It took her three years, exchanging sentences with stepmother and cheek from her father. Slytherins take care only of their business, they trample over people to achieve their aim, they have no friends, only allies.

On this August day, a small, spoiled girl discovered what she could do to make sure no one will hit her in the future, nobody would push her around. Authority. She desired power. She was sensitive under the shade, so she built a wall, and began to prepare. She did not want to be married to the Minister of Magic or to be the Minister of Magic. She wanted changes, a change that would make her the Queen, she dreamed of absolute power. She knew it was hard to accomplish, but she was ambitious and cunning, and her natural skills and beauty only made her work easier.

She wanted to get rid of all the poisoned minds in the world of wizards. She did not care about the blood status, she was interested in the skills. She often wondered if it was good that there were only two girls in her year, Isabella Max and her. Somewhere there a huge potential may be wasted, and in Hogwarts, fools were receiving great knowledge. She thought that school should be divided into years, of course, and additionally to the group: basic and advanced. Some students cannot continue to follow the material, because professors give others more time. The Ministry was similar. The highest rank was the richest, not the most skilled.

Only her gender interfered with her goal. In muggle and wizard's Great Britain wars took place, but only in muggle's world women could begin to work on equal terms with men, gaining the rights that she dreamed of.

If only I had come to power, she thought.

"Look at what the cat dragged in." she heard. She peered away from the red light and lazily turned it over to the speaker.

Malfoy leaned on the back of her chair, his grey eyes wandering around her bare legs and naked neck. His hair was ruffled, his clothes unbuttoned, he smelled of wood. She shifted her gaze to the boy behind Malfoy. Usually, Nott's perfectly flattened hair was spread all over, his uniform undo, his shoes drenched in mud. She did not have to look at the third one to know where they were.

"I should now deduct you points for pacing on the Forbidden Forest during nighttime," she said without commenting his earlier statements.

"You will take away points from your House?" Nott interrupted. The brunette got up, adjusted her nightgown so that she was now down to her knees and clenched her lips in a thin line, which with her plump mouth was a huge achievement.

"From this, I am well known, _Nott_ ," she said calmly but firmly. "What did you even think you were doing? If you were lost in the Forbidden Forest, it would be _horrible_ for the school, though I must admit, this vision is tempting."

"Oh," Malfoy muttered. "Would you be worried?"

"I wouldn't have to, Malfoy. You are talented wizards, _Slytherins_ , not cowards. You would come back alive because if not, I would resurrect you and murder you again. What worried me was the closure of the school. It would be very likely after the situation two years ago."

"I remember exactly how you looked with distaste at all of this. Poor Lizzy was also scolded by your look when she said that the mudbloods would get what they deserved. Do you know that after that conversation with you she shut down? She even thought to move to the dormitory of the third year." said Cantankerus, occupying the girl's previous place.

She raised her eyebrows up, released her full lips, gave him a look of disdain. Nott was a good wizard, not outstanding, but still useful and brunette could only whine at his ego. Cantankerus had a lot of classes with her, so she could look at his development. She knew that without a husband she would not be a capable part of society, but she needed someone equal to her, and Nott was far behind her.

"You say it like you hoped it would move me. Isabella expressed her opinion, and I mine. She should think before she says anything. Her moving out would be for me only beneficial. I'm going to talk with her about this at breakfast, thank you very much for bringing my attention to this subject, Nott."

She saw the boy blink several times before laughter burst out of his mouth. Cantankerus was a cheerful boy, who wondered the girl because the mischief was not Slytherin's feature. The Sorting Hat is never wrong, you only needed to look at her and what happened when she embraced her inner self.

"You're so _adorable_!" She tilted her head to one side, not understanding what he meant. Her eyes were astonished, her brows almost met, her lips gently open. They said that she was soulless, cold, her face always showing dissatisfaction. Where did it come from? "You are such a delight! I have to hug you!"

She stepped a few steps aside, avoiding his embrace, noticing the Head Boy behind her. She bumped into him, and he managed to catch her before she had fallen. His hands tightened on her shoulders. Magic swirled in her lower abdomen, buzzed in her blood, even her hair got a dose. The Head Boy is not someone to be ignored, and the girl must be ready for anything.

" _Nott, that's enough_ ," he whispered softly, and his companions remembered his existence. The brunette broke out when he was not about to let her go. "I apologize, Miss Travers, Nott does not seem to be himself today."

In his voice, she could hear the promise of pain. A chill ran down her back, she was paralyzed. She has always avoided the Prefect, tried not to look him in the eyes at meetings, they never patrolled together, they greeted by a nod only. Something was wrong with him, the girl could not put finger on it, but the feeling was still in there. This year was supposed to be different, she was supposed to be different, stronger, but his magic...

"It's all fine, Riddle." she raised her head, the emerald green met with chocolate brown. She changed her stance, her back bent into a perfect bow, her chest pulled forward, her chin up high. "I have known Nott for a long time and his lack of manners is no foreign to me."

Curiosity flashed through his eyes, and Miss Travers lost ground beneath her feet. Apparently, not only was femininity her obstacle to absolutism, but also Riddle.

How can anyone have such a dark aura?, she thought, not noticing how the boy looked at her, People named me the Black Queen, and she was grovelling at his feet like he was the King himself.

She did not succumb to the craving, did not give in, did not look away. Even when Nott began to apologize for his behaviour, which had not happened before. Only Malfoy's words distracted her from Prefect.

"What are you doing here so early?" he asked, then looked at the watch on his wrist. "It's only a few minutes after five."

"Thank you for reminding me, Malfoy," she said, and the corners of her mouth rose gently. "I take forty points from Slytherin, twenty from you and twenty from Nott, for not following the rules and leaving the castle during the night."

"Mal, don't be like that!" Malfoy complained. "We were friends, no? Do you remember how I carried you on my back because your legs hurt?"

"No," she said shortly. " _And do not call me Mal_."

"Tom was not punished," Nott said. "Why?"

"Do not colour me stupid. Riddle is the Head Boy, and he cannot be punished for three simple reasons, not to mention the most common fact that prefects cannot subjugate each other. _First of all_ , his condition is impeccable as opposed to you, so he did not have to be in the Forbidden Forest with you. _Secondly_ , I certainly do not want to have an enemy in someone who has the trust of almost all of the Hogwarts teachers. _Thirdly_ , you don't annoy the wizards more powerful than you."

"Do you know you just admitted-" Malfoy was having trouble choking on the rest of the sentence, but he quickly recovered, seeing her face. "Mal, you just admitted that someone has power over you. You said that Tom is better, teachers trust him more than they trust you. In addition... you complimented him."

She sighed heavily. She did not think this conversation would go that far. She was tired, her eyes burned from lack of sleep, her body demanding a bath, the best would be quick, cold stream, and they kept pushing.

"I did not say anything that wouldn't be true. He is older, more experienced, has the title of Head Boy and teachers do trust him. He feeds them his sweet lies, Abraxas, he manipulates them. I can recognize the snake when I see one. He has a gift that I do not possess and he uses it. If you would focus more, you could sense how his magic is attacking mine. Our skills are different, that's true, but I have never said he was better than me. He's more powerful, it's a fact. It does not mean that this state of matter will stay like that for long." she gave them a smirk, not paying attention to Tom. "I said he looked impeccably. This is a mere statement, not a compliment. And do not call me Mal."

There was a silence in the Common Room. Travers realized the importance of her words. She set herself as equal with a man, in the background she also promised that she would gain more power than he did. Her stepmother would scold her on the spot, ordered her to apologize, although Riddle's name certainly had nothing to do with the respected wizard family. It began to ponder Miss Travers. What root could the Prefect have? Where did he come from and why did his parents give him such a weak name?

She did not have time to ask more questions when the most frightening laughter she has ever heard in her life filled the room. Magic came out of her body again. She felt her magic smoothing her skin, trying to calm her down, though it did not work. The power spilt all over her from head to foot.

"Travers, your hair..." Nott began but did not finish his speech.

"I accept the challenge, Miss Travers," Riddle said. "I will be waiting for our final duel impatiently. And all you have said, Miss Travers, I accept it as a high-level compliment. I will not hurt you, so you can mute your magic."

"It's not that simple, Riddle," she snapped, then quickly returned to a stoic stance. "My magic senses danger and reacts to it. It won't stop until I'm at a safe distance from you."

"You can blame your ancestors for it, Mal," joked Malfoy. Passing them, she gave him another glaring look and then disappeared into the corridor to the women's dormitory. While walking toward the room, she could still hear Malfoy joking about the Medusa complex to which Nott reacted with a loud laugh.

She walked into the room, closing the door quietly behind her. Isabella was asleep, and the brunette did not want her to wake up. She pulled out of from her trunk a burgundy shirt and dabbled on whether she should wear pants or not. Girls at school did not show up in the pants, and Travers wanted to be the first. The decision was made quickly. She grabbed black, wide pants with high waist, heels and a beautician, and headed for the bathroom.

She looked at her reflection in the mirror. Dark elegant eyebrows, reddened eyes, greyish skin. Two nights in a row without sleep and that's what happens to you. Miss Travers knew good healing spells that could repair her condition without a few hours of rest. She grabbed her wand, drove it over her closed eyelids, below them and over the face. Everything went back to normal, and she could take the desired shower and plan the first hours of the day.

After cleaning herself up, she will go to the library to finish herbology paper, write a Veritaserum essay for Slughorn and if she has enough time before breakfast, she will look for books that will help her with writing a Transmutation essay. The library has been open since six, which means she will have time to nine in the morning to finish the assignments, and if not for Slughorn's desire to extract information about the potion of truth on ten pieces of parchment, she would finish it before breakfast, and later on, she would repeat the material for the Defense Against the Dark Arts, although her talent did not require it. She preferred to have everything under control, however, if she was short of time to read the ' **Secrets of the noble Lord SS** ', she would give up the repetition for this little pleasure.

The book was found in the family library at the end of the holiday. She was halfway through ' _How to understand the purity of blood_?', so she left it for her stay at Hogwarts. She started reading it on the train and she knew, from the first page, that she was reading about her distant forefather. She decided to enjoy it a little longer and only consumed one chapter a day. Patience would allow her to skip this chapter and read the next two another day, but the title encouraged her so much! ' _The purity of blood and the magic of the muggle-borns_ ' has attracted the girl from reviewing the table of contents.

It was always curious for her what had caused Salazar Slytherin to dislike muggle-born wizards and witches so much. This feeling could not appear out of the thin air, the sorcerer, despite his drawbacks, was not a fool. Something had to happen, and Miss Travers could not let go of the mission. She had to know.

She came out from the stream, thoroughly wiped the water from her body, then dressed. Her hair was rolled into a bun, reminding her of a wave, this hairstyle was fashionable recently, although it did not fit everyone, she applied eyeliner on her eyelids and on her lips blood red lipstick. She used spells for makeup to last a dozen or so hours and she was ready to go.

In the dormitory, she put on heels, which added ten centimetres to her, which with her height, five foot eight, made her look at many boys from above or in the eye without lifting her head. It gave her the feeling of appreciation as if height was the determinant of power, not the ability to use magic.

She looked at her watch. In five minutes the curfew will end and she will be able to go to the library with no worries. She packed the necessary things into the bag, hung it over her shoulder and left. Passing through Common Room, she remembered a conversation between her and the male Slytherins.

Nott cheerful as usual and Malfoy - invariably annoying. The issue was with Tom. His magic brought her barriers to release, and she hated it. Usually, she was able to control herself, she had no problem managing her power, at least she thought so. She did not listen to her mother, when she told her about their female ancestors, she was eight years old and she was more interested in whether or not she would be allowed to play with her broom today. She barely remembered it and she knew only two of the most famous witches in her family, her mother's family. It was Medusa and the witch from which her parents borrowed a name for her.

Medusa was the oldest of her known ancestors. Mom said she was a beautiful woman, who served goddess Athena in the temple. Her charm has lured the god of the seas and oceans, Poseidon. Of course, she did it unconsciously. Poseidon enchanted by her appeal had her on the sacrificial table. This act did not please Athena. She punished Medusa, making her a monster with scales instead of skin and snakes in the place of her hair.

Medusa was a very powerful witch. She cast a spell at herself, that allowed her to turn every young man into a stone with one glance. She died after giving birth to her daughter, killed by Perseus.

Your genes can be awakened only by person with a huge resource of magic, mama said, If any of her descendants would succeed, I do not think they would be happy then, because the one who wakes it is the most dangerous, but also the one only, who can control her whole: her heart and her soul.

Foolish mother, she thought as she approached the library door, To believe in such nonsense. Maybe I have a piece of Medusa as her heir, but her gift has not been passed to me, and the event in the morning was just a puls of magic in me, insisting on being freed.

She greeted Mrs Broyrin, the librarian, and found herself at the very end of the reading room. She spread the parchments, the inkwell, the quill, and the books she needed on the table, and started working.

If it goes well, she comforted herself in her mind, Then you'll read the desired chapter. Work hard!

If she was more focused on the environment, she might have noticed a pair of brown eyes staring at her curiously. If she was more attentive, she would feel like her hair tried to get out of the bun under the influence of that look. If she listened to her mother, she would have known that her magic had united an inseparable knot with another.

*♦*♦*

 

She entered the Great Hall walking proudly, ignoring the amazed glances. She searched for the blonde hair of her dormitory companion. She was sitting at a table with girls from the fifth year. She approached them.

"Isabelle," She touched the girl's shoulder. The blonde stared at Maleficent with her big blue eyes, still not believing what she saw. "Nott informed me, that since our fourth grade your desire is to move to the dormitory of our younger colleagues, but your timid nature has prevented you from doing so. If you feel the need to move out, I do not see a problem. Try to do it before dinner, please. Enjoy your meal."

She left no room for a discussion. It sounded like friendly advice, but everyone felt the cold oozing out of her. Isabelle had no choice, but to move. She enjoyed the conditions in which she lived. Travers rarely was in the room, sometimes even at night, her bed was empty. Indeed, two years ago she was dissatisfied, but after a long time, it began to suit her. She should have known, that Nott would tell Maleficent, but she did not care about that then. Why did he do it? Why did he talk to her? Isabella did not know and did not want to know. Knowing this secret is not worth the anger of the Black Queen.

Miss Travers saw the perfect spot to have breakfast. Not too far from gossiping students and not too close to them. She was almost there when she heard the call.

"Mal, come, sit with us!"

The Great Hall seemed to been frozen. Travers arrived for a meal in trousers, and now Abraxas Malfoy invited her to spend time together? The girls were green with envy, though they couldn't do anything about it. Attempts to harm the brunette would not end as they would have liked, and they would probably have landed in the Hospital Wing. They went back to eating, not expecting an answer from her, and the rest followed them with the conviction, that nothing more disturbing could happen in their lives.

The brunette paused, the click of her heels stopped. She greeted the professors and the headmaster with a nod and then turned to Malfoy. She was put in an awkward position and it would be rude to refuse. She didn't like to do what people demanded of her, although she was not yet a Queen, so she had to keep appearances.

"Do not call me Mal, Abraxas," she demanded, sitting in front of him and Riddle, and next to Nott.

"Don't be like that, Mal! Don't you see how perfect we are for each other? Mal and Malfoy! We have been united in heaven!"

"Your name is Mal, Miss Travers?" Riddle asked, interrupting the conversation. "Everyone always uses your last name or pet name, and when the list of the rounds and duties of the Prefects appears, there are only the first letter of the name and then last name. We have not worked together yet, have we? I would also like to add that you look phenomenal today."

She clenched her jaw. He noticed, and that meant a patrol in the near future with him as her company. He should stop with this cool courtesy, because of it girls won't chase after him, but after Malfoy. She put toast on the plate, buttered it with jam, poured tea into the cup and after that replied.

"Thank you, Riddle. You are also presenting marvellous this morning," she replied flattering with the same, or maybe even more, reserve. "Yes, we didn't have a patrol together yet. I have worked with Ravenclaws and Gryffindors only. I was the only snake that could bear them and the only one that was accepted. And no, my name is not Mal."

"So what shall I call you?" he pressed, seeing that she had seen through his game. She sent him a forced smile, which usually worked on teachers.

"Travers is fine," she assured him. She took a sip of the tea and bit a bit of bread. Red flashed in Riddle's iris, and she immediately tensed. She could see how his fingers clamped on the fork, his mouth forming a thin line. Another reason why girls won't choose him is that only the teacher has a soft spot in their hearts for him. The peers sens his aura: powerful, strong, dark. They see him outside the classroom, after all.

"I wish we could be on the first name terms," he whispered. She swallowed, licked her mouth discreetly and pushed the plate away. She lost her appetite.

"I don't like yours nor mine name," she said after a moment of thinking. After the words were said by her, Riddle put down the cutlery and became anxiously distressed. "It's not suitable for you, it's _common, ordinary_ and you are unique. Do you have a middle name, Riddle?"

"Marvolo,"

"And that is a strong name," she said. "Maleficent Victoria Travers. That's why they keep calling me Mal. Please, let's not address me by my name, so I won't have to call you by yours."

Cantankerus grabbed a patch of her shirt in silent admonition, and Abraxas begged her with a look to stop. She moved uneasily on the bench, her heart slammed harder, she no longer felt superior.

" _Maleficent, call me Tom_ ," he murmured before he stood up. He walked to the exit from the Great Hall, but stopped on his way out, turned around and looked at Maleficent. "I will try to organize a patrol for us soon. Be patient."

His voice sharp like razors hurt her ears. Maleficent's eyes narrowed, suggesting the forthcoming explosion. She blinked several times, getting rid of tears. Why didn't she make any sensible insult? She was capable of it!

She jumped up and then followed Tom, ignoring the shouting Malfoy and Nott. She chased the Head Boy to the stairs to the dungeons. She grabbed him by the arm and pulled him to her so that their noses could almost touch. In these boots, she was his height, their eyes on the same level. She ignored his pleasant smell and the distance they shared.

"Maybe you are the Head Boy, a favourite pupil of the teachers and an incredible wizard, but soon I will be number one, I will fuel the fire. I'm the Queen, Riddle. _And who are you?_ "

 


	2. The Queen and the Lord

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> "I accept the challenge, Miss Travers," Riddle said. "I will be waiting for our final duel impatiently. And all you said, Miss Travers, I accept it as a high-level compliment. I will not hurt you, so you can mute your magic." "It's not that simple, Riddle." she snapped, She wanted to be a Queen, he wanted to rule the world. What happens, when two souls, that desire the power meet?

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I wanted to post it one week ago, but I started to write a new story about Tom. It's about him and his sister. It would have incest relationship in it and I would like to know if you are interested in it. I wrote a few chapters for my new story, but this time about Paul/OC from the Twilight universe. Let me know if you would like to read it!
> 
> I am not a native English speaker, so please, forgive me for my mistakes. 
> 
> I don't own Harry Potter. Rowling does.
> 
> Enjoy and please share your thoughts about it!

**"Is that vodka?" Margarita asked weakly.**   
**The cat jumped up in his seat with indignation.**   
**"I beg pardon, my queen," he rasped, "Would I ever allow myself to offer vodka to a lady? This is pure alcohol!"**

**Mikhail Bulgakov "The Master and Margarita"**

 

Days varied in weeks, weeks in a month, and so Maleficent found herself one day before the weekend, wondering if she would go on her first expedition to Hogsmeade this year. She would like to go for a new book because the ' **Secrets of the Noble Lord SS** ' were swallowed up by her in late September.

In early October, Edmund approached her, demanding that she respond to her father's letters. She stared at him as he handed her the envelope in the Common Room, then tossed it into the fireplace in front of his eyes.

_Pass it, little owl_ , she said, _And stop drooling at the sight of Eileen. It's pathetic._

Since that incident, she did not receive any news, but her younger brother honoured her with his company at dinner and forewarned her of father's presence in the town. He did not do it for free, of course. He was a Slytherin and he demanded that she do his homework about some potion. Maleficent could do it, she really could, but she didn't want to. She smiled, he took it as her consent, and then went his way. She came across him several hours later, he was pinned to the wall by older Gryffindors, the Slytherins would not dare to touch him, struggling in their grasp.

She did not say anything. She walked quietly to the tormentors, put her hands on their shoulders, and stuck her head between them. They jumped like they were burned, apologized bending in half, and Maleficent was left alone with Edmund. She checked for wounds on his body other than bruises, and when she saw nothing, she had said she repaid her debt. Edmund was not happy, though he could not disagree.

So she found herself in the dark corner of the library, sitting on the windowsill with the Transmutation textbook on her lap. Rain hit the glass, smearing the picture of the grounds. She tapped her finger on the window, hummed the lullaby and stroked book with her palm. She tried to focus on studying, but the vision of meeting her parent overwhelmed her.

At the last tete-a-tete with her father, she had promised she would not come home for Christmas and she would keep her word. Holidays were never the same after her mother died and she was sick with all artificiality. She closed her eyes and her voice became stronger.

"' _But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once the way you did once upon a dream,_ '"

She did not dare to sing louder. The library was crowded for some time now. The students threw themselves into the whirl of preparation for Owls or N.E.W.T or, like Maleficent, they were doing their homework. She muttered the melody under her breath, leaned her head against the glass and relaxed before making a decision.

She was close to reaching the desired nirvana, everything was losing colours and shapes, she was slowly falling asleep. She would have gone lost in this sensation if it had not been for the sound from the outside world. She was suddenly ripped out of bliss, the silence was disturbed, the heart returned to a restless rhythm. She turned her head aside, lazily turned her eyes to the intruder, on her face a grimace of dissatisfaction. Maleficent's clenched jaw loosened as she saw the boy's horrified, shifting gaze.

Travers recognized him as a colleague of Edmund. He, Edmund and the other tall boy formed a group of peers, and thanks to the brunette they have some kind of immunity. Edmund was a coward blanked in a bravado, and his classmates were spoiled cheeky brats. The third year in front of her knew his place in the Slytherin hierarchy. If the Maleficent provides security for them, they must respect her.

The boy might have been fourteen, but he was not a fool. The witch could blow him off the earth with one spell, he would not know how to defend himself, and the whole thing would look like an accident. He quickly pulled himself together, calmed his breath, stood in front of her as was expected before a lady, then greeted her.

"Good evening, Miss Travers. My name is Antonin Dolohov, I am a friend of your brother…"

"I know who you are, Dolohov." she interrupted. She got up from the windowsill, put the book on the table on her left, then returned to her gaze to him. "What is the reason for your intrusion on my part of the library?"

The area next to the Restricted Section belonged to her, and students who were frequent visitors to the reading room knew it well. Antonin Dolohov was not here too often. It was not a surprise to Maleficent. In the end, he was Edmund's friend. She stared at his black hair, dark eyes and limp posture.

_How did this child survive in Slytherin for three years?_ , she wondered, He is unable to control his magic, he looked skinny, he lacked any aura.

Her green eyes softened. Antonin Dolohov reminded her of herself several years ago. Maybe it would not have been bad for the Queen to find a Prince for herself.

"I heard your singing, Miss, and my legs led me here on they own. You have a beautiful voice." he praised. Once Slytherin, forever Slytherin.

The story was great, Maleficent enjoyed it, but she did not believe in lies. She used wrong words, she does not believe in _his_ lies. His compliments were true but worthless. He had another reason to be here.

Hypocrisy would be for Maleficent to say she hates liars. She often deceived people, but she could not stand when someone was doing it in such an unspoilt manner. Dolohov had to learn many things.

" _I know you, I walked with you once upon a dream. I know you, that look in your eyes is so familiar, a gleam and I know it's true that visions are seldom all they seem. But if I know you, I know what you'll do. You'll love me at once the way you did once upon a dream_." she sang quietly, approaching the boy. He shivered as the last line was whispered in his ear. There was a mocking smile on her lips. "You are like a dog. Have you not learnt anything yet? You do not come to someone more powerful than yourself to lie. You are telling the truth if you want to achieve something. It makes an impression, it makes you seem stronger than you are. You only lie when you are sure it will bring the intended result."

He swallowed hard, slid away, and Maleficent could swear that she saw scarlet spots on his cheeks. She tilted her head to one side, suddenly interested in what he had to say. Dolohov was embarrassed and it amused her immensely. Nervously rubbing his hand, he shuffled from foot to foot, whimpering under his breath. She nearly laughed after hearing his request.

"Would you like... To go with me to Hogsmeade tomorrow, Miss?

_It is certain_ , she thought, _Dolohov is mad_.

Sweet Merlin, he does not remember what Maleficent did to the last daredevil, who dared to ask her out. Even with her cold behaviour, she was still popular with the rougher sex and she blamed her mother's genes for that. Maybe if there were more of her father's features in her, she would be repulsive, though it was a precarious theory considering Mr Travers is handsome. The stepmother did not hit unfortunate. A handsome, rich and respected wizard looking for a wife?

_The widower and widow, how delightful_ , she mocked, _There's a pity that the widower has a daughter._

Ravenclaw, who invited her to a date at the end of school year, seemingly he was preparing for this moment for four months, pondering whether he should do it or not, in front of everyone in the Great Hall, was crushed by her questions. Once she had convinced him, that he was worse than her, and that if he was a better wizard, she would not mind going out with him, she used one of the few spells she could throw without help of a wand, without speaking out loud, and the sixth year student choked, tears flowed from his eyes, his body seemed to burn from within.

The teachers reacted at once, but when they ran, Ravenclaw breathed heavily, released from the spell. She had no wand in her hand, she did not say a word, and the non-verbal spell without a wand was not at her level, was it? Nobody knew what happened to the boy, but they would not dare to blame Maleficent. Not to her face at least. To this day, the Ravenclaw is staying away from her.

The witch had two options; agree or not. The fact that she was thinking about it was admirable. Refusal could have irrevocably broken him, but Maleficent did not change her beliefs. Her man had to match her in every way. She would skip the age difference if he controlled his skills well. She could fix it, she could fix him. She will not say yes, she will not say no, she will say maybe.

"I have a proposal for you, Dolohov." She leaned against the edge of the table. "I will agree to be with you if you prove to me that you are an outstanding wizard. Expand your talents, rise to the great heights of magic, and when you do it, I will be yours."

With each word of the girl, Dolohov became more excited. Maleficent, according to him an ideal woman, promised that, if he becomes stronger, she will be his. What did that do with his young mind! The teenager has imagined these moment many times, since the first day of September. He had never felt anything like this for witch before, and Travers seemed amazing to him.

Her cat-like eyes, porcelain face, full, begging for kisses lips and body that were worth dying for. His neck flushed red at the thought of touching her waist. He approached Maleficent, grabbed her dissolved hair in his fingers, kissed them, then left without saying goodbye.

Maleficent was angry at herself for untangling the braid, before going to the library. She hated people touching her. Nobody had the right to kiss or hug her without her consent. However, she was not furious for a long time. She changed it to satisfaction, knowing that the boy accepted the challenge and had the courage to make that gesture.

She tied her hair, hid her things, and then headed to the dormitory. If Dolohov did not fear Maleficent, knowing her reputation, she would not be afraid to meet her father.

  
*♦*♦*

  
"Miss Travers, could I have a word with you?" She heard a warm voice behind her. Turning around, she saw Professor Dumbledore. Maleficent had mixed feelings for Transmutation teacher. The man was able to see through her without any problems, he was not fooled by her sweet smiles and after every lesson, he insisted that she give him the sincere one, just like she used years ago.

On the other hand, she admired him immensely. He discovered all her cards, he didn't let her start playing with him like she did with other professors. He deciphered Riddle! How amazing he must have been to do this. Without much trouble, he recognized the wolf in sheep's clothing!

The thrill of excitement run through Maleficent's back as her teacher's eyes rested on her. She imagined as a man discovers her secrets one after another, the next ones ever darker that previous, until she finally stands naked, in his mind defenceless, and once he turned his back on her, trusting her again, she would hit hard, bit into his flesh with all her power. She would use magic and he would...

She basked in knowing that Dumbledore did not know her desires. It was not appropriate for a young girl to dream of events from this matter.

"Of course, Professor Dumbledore," she answered immediately, then followed him by a deserted corridor toward his office.

Dinner ended less than five minutes ago, students went to their dormitories, she was about to lie down earlier, although it was not yet nine in the evening. However, you do not deny one of your authorities, do you?

"Please sit down, Miss Travers," he pointed to one of the armchairs by the fireplace. "Tea?"

"No, thank you, Professor," she said, occupying a designated place.

"My dear, you are probably asking yourself why I want to talk with you, aren't you?" He sat next to the table, lemon drops appeared on the table, flames in the fireplace. "Headmaster Dippet informed me of the changes you and Tom introduced to the patrols table of the prefects. I looked at the sketch that Tom provided. I am worried about the frequency of your commonly rounds. I would not protest if there were other partners switching between the two of you. Prefects mix in this layout for the next month, but you and Tom are always together."

She drew her lips in a straight line, frowned, she racked her brain. She tried to recall when she debated with Riddle about their patrols. She remembered how he put two and two together, promised to make up for it, but she did not think that would really happen.

_I can blame only myself for that_ , she realized, _my last leap caused it. And ignoring him for the last month after asking a very important, existential question could have a major part in it too. He had the right to be confused by my outburst, of course_.

"I do not want to cause problems, Professor, neither to you nor the Head Boy. Indeed, Mr Riddle and I chatted about our duties during one of our few conversations. I believe that Mr Riddle did not have bad intentions, although the effects are not satisfactory. We have noticed that we have not patrolled corridors together and now he want to catch up. I'm not sure though, maybe you should ask him?"

"I put your comfort first, Miss Travers," he said after a few seconds of hesitation. "You agree to such scheme? If not, then please, don't hesitate to ask for a change."

"If it does not complicate the situation, then I agree to the second version. Fine changes will not hurt, but before I go..." She stopped, standing by the door, ready to leave. "You would do me a great favour if you don't enlist me with Mr Riddle at all. The Head Boy and I do not agree on many issues, and joint rounds could lead to an increase in conflict between us. We have common friends and we work together as Prefect and Head Boy, but we are never alone. I will be eternally grateful for your kindness. Thank you and I wish you a good night."

Without waiting for the response, she ran out of the office. Her legs tangled between long skirt of her uniform, her hands sweating, and her pulse accelerated. Maleficent can afford such reactions only when she is alone, so she doesn't waste time. She leant on the cold walls of Hogwarts and inhibits the need to vomit.

She avoided Riddle no without a reason. She declared war on him, sweet Merlin! She said she was a Queen, she pointed out his blood status. The theory that he is a half-blood was not confirmed, albeit highly probable. He did not know many of the pureblood customs, he knew a lot about muggles, did not talk about his family or vacation. Sorting Hat would not put a Muggle-born in Slytherin. Would it?

_No, no, no_ , she argued, _why did I let the pride take over? What was I thinking about?_

She was almost crying. Maleficent didn't care, if anyone saw her face. Red, bloodshot eyes, tears streaming down her cheeks. She was waiting for the end because she was afraid of people stronger than her, who caused this kind of reaction from her. Last time it happened two years ago, and Maleficent did not want to go back to it, she did not want to see the face of the sorcerer.

What he had told her to do with the Muggle was frightening. Nightmares were leaving her only at Hogwarts, where she knew she was safe. How wrong she was! Her lips trembled at the memory of a hand in the throat of a defenceless girl, pushing chunks of bloody material into it. Muggle was begging Maleficent to stop, although the canvases drowned her scream. The girl died trying to get rid of the fabric from her body.

Before that, they raped and beat her, and her death was a distinction for the fourteen-year-old Miss Travers. They stuck her clothes in Maleficent's hands, most likely torn during the sex, leading her to a dying woman. The wizard explained what she was supposed to do with it, but she did not know the cause. She choked out that she could not do something that would make her sinful for the rest of her life.

The man stroked her cheek, he brushed away hair from her face, drew the lines of her lips with his thumb. He explained that the woman is just an animal, a dog that does not listen to the master, that she does not deserve merciful death, and Maleficent could put an end to her torment. He said it was an award for the Muggle, that it was a prize for Maleficent, but also the price she had to pay for his lessons. She almost complained that _she did not ask for it_ , it was all the fault of her father, _she did not want it_.

She did not move, stared at the woman and thought about escaping. She analyzed her abilities for too long, the sorcerer leaned over her, whispered into her ear.

_Your stepmother can end up like that, darling_ , a shiver passed through her, though she did not care what happened to her father's mistress, _and if it does not impress you, then I'll take her son, your little brother, and he'll end up in the place of this tramp. You will have to push all sorts of objects into his throat. Still no reaction? Do it before I start to fuck you in front of my people, girl, come on!_

There was no need to add the last phrase. He convinced her enough with Edmund. This year he had got a letter from Hogwarts. Starting school with trauma is not a child's dream. An additional motivation was the last threat. She did not want to lose her virginity with a much older man she was only averse to.

She did what he commanded and did it for herself, no matter how selfish it sounded, and for Edmund, she dug into her mind not to feel guilty. Cruel laughter sounded in her ears every time she saw thestrals pulling carriages. She found them in a book of magical creatures, remembered the definition, she debated if she understood the death of an innocent girl.

She suffocated, she lacked oxygen in her lungs. She was sure Riddle was her punishment for the crime she committed. She will never be equal to him and she will die trying. The act of the barbarity she has committed will never be forgiven, she won't forgive herself. If she used Avada Kedavra her actions would not be so barbaric and she would not have dreamed of the muggle's empty eyes.

She slid down the wall, her legs could no longer hold her. She sobbed aloud, then quickly suppressed the rest of the unwanted sounds with her palm. Oh, how she wanted to be in her dormitory!

"Maleficent?" She suffocated herself but did not raise her head. "Are you feeling unwell?"

Brunet crouched beside her, and when he didn't get the answer, he slipped his right hand under her knees and left on the small of her back. Maleficent found herself in his arms. The boy's shoulders were wide, perfect for concealing unwanted tears in them. She wrapped her arms around his neck, clenched her fingers on her friend's from the beginning of her education clothes.

Maleficent missed him much more than Nott. They understood each other without words, only he was allowed to touch her without asking for permission. She never regretted losing him as much as in the fourth year. When she was thirteen, much changed in her life, she pushed aside all of them, but not Alphard and Cantankerus. In May 1942, just two months after her birthday, she had no one on her side.

She loved Alphard as a brother. He allowed her to fly on a broomstick, when no one was looking, although she should not have been doing it since she was eight. He made Maleficent smile with his stupid jokes, he played with her hair while learning together in the library.

She did not notice when they were in the Common Room. It was late, the Slytherins slept in their beds. Black put her on the sofa and then sat down on it. He took off her shoes, put them on the floor, and began massaging her feet, placing them on his lap.

"Alphard?" She rasped. "I was starving for you."

"I officially announce my jealousy," they heard.

Three men and a boy came out of the corridor leading to the male dormitory. Nott's voice and messy hair, she recognized him immediately. He appeared suddenly beside her, his fingers clutching her chin, lifting it up.

"Good evening, Cantankerus. How was your day?"

He wiped her tears with his sleeve, smearing the lipstick on her lips. He left his hands on Maleficent's collarbone and stroked it as if to make sure everything was okay and that she was not hurt in any way.

"Why did you cry, Mal?" he asked his breath near her temples. "Did someone hurt you?"

She forgot about Riddle, about their two-year absence from her lives, about her father, about him. Everything became Black and Nott. Just as if they did not part. She touched Nott's hairs in a way she had done it a few years ago and kissed his forehead. An innocent gesture that did not match her, warmed Nott's heart. His skin on her lips, the warmth of his flesh. Maleficent wanted to stay here forever. She, Cantankerus and Alphard. Was it not a beautiful combination?

"I do not want to ruin this meaningful moment," _The spell was broken, magic has disappeared, time to wake up from your dream, Cinderella_. "But we have something to do, Nott."

Maleficent broke off contact with her friend and turned to the speaker. Riddle stood proud, erect with a red glow in his eyes. He did not look happy with the scene before him. He despised covetousness, public affection, any emotion. He did not expect to see the weeping Miss Travers in Black's companion in an ambiguous position on one of the common room's couches. In addition, Nott added his two cents, which made the situation uncomfortable.

Riddle felt the greed associated with the witch. Her magic so perfectly compatible with his, pure blood, the beauty of mind and body and the character he could not figure out. He had been watching her closely since the release of the basilisk. The serpent had a certain affection for Travers, which heir of Salazar Slytherin could not grasp, could not grasp her talent until their magic had begun to fight.

During his earlier observations, he did not make any remarkable notes, except for her outstanding marks, impeccable behaviour and a very strong aura. Later, he slowly discovered how well she masked her excesses, her mania to have control of everything and everyone. Her movements, looks and perfection screamed 'Queen'.

Although Maleficent had one drawback, that was connected with many of her advantages: she was a woman. Women are influenced by emotions, they have a glass heart, they are easy to manipulate - things that were wrong with her, for someone like him is something he can easily use - and although they have the gift of organization and know the art of fraud, they cannot fully use it.

He saw Maleficent on the throne with a black crown and a golden long sceptre with an irreconcilable expression on her face. Cruel, soulless Black Queen, judging anyone who opposes her. In his memory, he had a picture of a witch instructing her colleague from the dormitory to leave for the fifth year one. She left no room for any discussion, she requires, she has it.

That is why he felt a slight disappointment when he saw salty drops flowing from her eyes. He had the impression that she was unique, different, similar to him. Disappointment did not last long. Maleficent got up violently, but with grace, her naked feet hitting the floor. She stood before the third year boy, about ten centimetres taller than him, watching him from above. The boy shrank under her gaze but did not step back.

"Can you explain what you do with the Knights, Dolohov?" Her voice full of venom, dissatisfaction."Among them, you won't become a King."

"You told me to develop, so..."

"I do not need someone as insensitive as me. I need someone who will accept me completely. I will never be yours if you are not equal to me."

The witch paid no heed, returned to her place and demanded another massage.

Alphard laughed under his breath and fulfil the silent request. Because of all the commotion, he has not answered her yet. He pulled her legs toward him and kissed her ankle. Unlike Nott's, Black's kiss expressed his total devotion to Maleficent, not innocence, it was passion, friendly passion.

_I missed you more_ , he seemed to speak.

Green eyes looked curiously at the actions of his best friend. It was very inaccurate in their environment. Maleficent's relationship with the two boys was inappropriate according to the society frames. As a lady, she should spend time with ladies, not with boys, and as gentlemen, they should not seduce girls. But have they ever been interested in the public opinion about them?

_Why did I leave them?_ , she thought, forgetting the Slytherin rules in which she was imprisoned, _I love them so much_.

"How do you know about Knights?" Riddle asked. Maleficent's attention was pulled away again.

"I know of every group that deals more or less with Dark Arts," she said. "I wanted to join you, although you call yourself the Knights of Walpurgis, so I would not fit in there with my sex. The second reason was the leader. My third was a reluctance to cooperate with anyone."

"We'll be happy to have you," he said quickly. "We can change the name, you will have enough time to know me, and during the rounds, there will certainly be more opportunities. You can think of it as the Slug Club or Prefect's duties. Just they would be a lot more pleasant."

"I'm not sure. Your goals..."

"Blood purity, gaining control over magical Great Britain, showing Muggles where their place is, gaining immortality," recalls Malfoy.

She only agreed with half of their ambition, one of them only caught up now. Absolute power through eternity? This thought was utopian.

_So I will create my own world_.

"Suggestions for a new name?" she said, letting them know that she is not opposed to the idea.

"The Queen and the Lord, how noble," Abraxas whined, but Riddle and Travers did not listen, completely absorbed in their new visions.

Riddle did not stop the smile that filled his mouth. He envisioned what he could do with Maleficent at his side. Wizards would respect him for capturing such a good gentlewoman from an old, pureblood family, her magic matched him, she lacked nothing.

Maleficent behaved in the same way, her eyes gleamed, new ideas appeared in her head. Power and immortality. She was not afraid of death, but how her empire could have failed without her supervision. Riddle's company was necessary. If he finds a way, she will not mind sharing the pleasure of power.

"Death Eaters," she whispered, kneeling on the couch, almost touching Tom's lips."The world will know us as Death Eaters."

"With Lord Voldemort and the Black Queen in the lead," Riddle said in euphoria. "Doesn't it sound divine?"

 


	3. Fright/ened of the Queen

**Summary for the Chapter:**

> Beatrice meets her father. Tom is enchanted.

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> I really love this story. I really love writting it, but I don't feel motivated enough to post it every two week :(

_**"The woman is an ultra-perfect organism.** _

_**She can regenerate after extremely heavy** _

_**experiences. She will survive everything. "** _

 

 

The autumn sun warmed her body, the wind was fluttering her knee-length skirt, her flared cloak was not fastened. She rearranged a huge round black hat, which matched with the rest of her dark outfit. She stood at the exit of Hogwarts, her face calm, posture lose. Nothing stood out, yet everything was so different.

Maleficent had never waited for anyone before, people were always waiting for her. She appeared near the gate punctually, but her date wasn't in scheduled place. He promised that he would take her to the Three Broomsticks, where she would probably meet her father, and then go with her to the bookshop and later get some new clothes from Madame Malkin.

 _Do **not** trust men, baby doll_ , her mother would tell her, _most of them are crass, obnoxious and repulsive_.

When asked, _Is daddy crass, obnoxious and repulsive too?_ the woman would answer.

_No, honey. Your daddy is an exceptional man, who will love only three women for the rest of his life: his mother, you and me. He promised me that when you were born and your dad never breaks promises._

She remembered her mother's words. Father was like everyone else. He did not deserve a woman like her mother, he did not deserve a daughter like her. She tried to be a good stepdaughter for her stepmother, but six years of life in the shadows, ignored by her own father for younger step-sibling, was painful. The witch thanked Merlin for them not having a baby together. Then even Edmund would have been forgotten.

In her childhood, the brunette was never sulking. She was raised to love what she had. They didn't lack money, although she was never pampered, so she enjoyed the little things. The sun had been shining, Maleficent had picked flowers, had made crowns for her parents - King and Queen - and for herself, the Princess. It had been raining, and she had been running across the huge balcony, ignoring Father's protests. Mum had joined her a few minutes later and they danced together in the streams. She used to climb up the trees, used to put on the boy's pants, used to show her legs, used to prefer to fly on the broom with Black and Nott than playing with dolls with her girl peers.

Her perfect world was over when she was nine and her mother was ill. Her suffering had not lasted long, only a week and so she left her daughter with dreams, that were not eligible to occur. A year later, on the anniversary of his mother's death, his father brought a beautiful woman home. He said that in three months she would be her new mum.

The woman had smiled, walked past her without a word, and began to order the changes. The protests of the little girl did not count for anything, her stepmother was relentless, and her father was on her side. A cradle appeared in her heart, and a few years later it was completely broken and no one was able to reconnect them.

"You're late," she said, ignoring the other Slytherins. "We were meant to meet here at ten, and it's already quarter past ten. If there is something or someone more important than me, you could have refused, I would ask someone else."

"My sincerest apologies," he muttered embarrassed."There is nothing nor no one more important than you, Maleficent, believe me. The boys offered me a shared visit to Hogsmeade, and I refused - of course - although they demanded the identities of the person accompanying me. As you may have guessed, I have not been able to escape without sharing this knowledge with them."

"No harm was done, Alphard," she said. "After yesterday's evening, I'm used to your company, though I consider it unnecessary at the moment."

She looked at the Slytherins. Nott smiled foolishly, although he had been offended, his cheeks were pink - he was ashamed or hot, Maleficent was not sure - his hands in the pockets of his coat. The witch almost burst out laughing at this sight. He looked like Fleamont Potter, Gryffindor's seeker, with this mess on his head.

Malfoy stood beside him. Long platinum hair pulled back, proud attitude, amused look. Their families have known each other very well for centuries, but Abraxas has not offered her friendship, she hasn't done so too. It was probably because she was doing better on a broom than he.

Behind them was Riddle. Without a coat, in a thick, brown sweater and a shirt under it. With the return of her friends, feelings returned to her heart, which burst at the sight of the boy. It was warmer than last week, it was a fact, but it wasn't warm enough to parade in such a state!

She was afraid of him, she could be alert, while near him, but without him, she knew no way of immortality. She just had to direct him in the right direction, she could not imagine the massacre of Muggle-borns and muggles, no matter how paradoxical was her personality. In addition, her character traits have reappeared, and Maleficent did not mind, as long as Alphard and Cantankerus were with her. She did not want to lose anyone anymore.

"Look at this from a different perspective," Abraxas began. "When you talk to Mister Travers, we will not leave you and we will help you with the choice of new clothes and we will make sure you do not have to carry all these books alone."

"You told them?" she asked, looking remorseful at Alphard and Cantankerus. There was no sign of her blank gaze from under her hat. She spent an hour chatting freely with the Slytherins, not touching the Death Eaters idea, although the emotions did not subsist. After Malfoy, Riddle, and Dolohov had left, they had talked about everything. Within the limits of trust, of course. As Maleficent could tell now, there was no reason to trust them.

"Maleficent, I had no choice..." Nott muttered. "It's not like I did not want to keep it a secret. One of the principles of the Knights is..."

"You are no longer Knights!" she snapped, then turned on her heel and left Hogwarts's grounds.

Maybe she acted irrational, maybe she exaggerated the current situation, but after all that had happened to her, she thought she might finally breathe. Apparently, she lost her mind. Pain, everything she has done in the last few years, the lack of love, and the betrayal after betrayal have made her what she was. However, a bit of light made her become a moth eager for heat.

She didn't fit anywhere permanently. She wasn't emphatic enough for most of her peers, and for the other part, she was not cruel adequately. She was lost in what she really was. Did the wall she built started to drop? Will she meet the requirements?

 _No one is self-sufficient, Maleficent_ , Mother would kiss her forehead, _you don't have to deal with all alone. You are unique, but the feelings, that accumulate in you are too strong._

What did she expect? Loyalty after more than twenty-four months of absence? Now Riddle was the most important one to them, and despite yesterday's change, they were officially knights. Nothing has changed yet, but so much could. She put her mouth into a thin line, stopped, took a few breaths, and then returned to the Slytherins.

There was anger on the Alphard and Riddle's faces. Nott gestured with his hands, missing the head of the Head Boy only by a few centimetres. She jumped between them as Tom took out his wand, and so she found herself facing Riddle with a piece of wood on her throat.

"If you are done with this senseless play, we could go to town," she said calmly, though her heart was pounding. She would not be able to withdraw her wand now, her defensive spells could not repel his attack, and she was lacking self-confidence, which aggravated the situation. The boy didn't move, even not by a millimetre, Maleficent did not retreat. She turned to look at him, then at a stick. "Yew? I have not met anyone, who would use a wand made of this tree. Thank you for showing it to me, Riddle, it was a great experience. You can tell me about its core without putting it in my throat."

"Of course," he said lightly, as if he agreed, that the weather was awfully not pleasant. "Would you do me the honour and show yours?"

Without hesitation, she handed him her wand. Long, twelve inches, light, almost white, with a golden handle. He grasped it in his left hand, his fingers clasped firmly.

"It was a bad idea, Mal," Abraxas murmured.

"Hornbeam, thestral's hair," she explained, ignoring Malfoy's uncertainty. Apparently, two wands in Riddle's hands are a dangerous thought. Maleficent was, however, relaxed. "The weapon that a wizard or witch uses tells his / her skills or personality. Although it is a piece of wood, it's a magic piece of wood. If you think about using it against me, it won't work. Hornbeam is faithful only to its first owner. It won't react but answer in ricochet. Can we go now?"

  
*♦*♦*

  
She sat down at an unoccupied table in the Three Broomsticks and ordered black tea with milk and no sugar. She received it a few minutes later, took a sip, and wished she hadn't had to be here. The sun was shining - for a few years she didn't like it very much - tea was too strong and her father was just sitting vis a vis her. She made sure no one from Hogwarts was close enough to hear their conversation, then glanced at her father.

He looked older than he actually was. On the twenty-fifth of August, he turned thirty-five, and the wrinkles on his face indicated at least forty-five. She did not look like him at all. She sometimes wondered if Edgar Travers was her father. She scolded herself. Mother would not do anything like that, she loved him too much.

Has he ever loved her? Did he reciprocate her feelings? The witch could not recall the bad memories of her father before her mother's death. What hurt her the most was a betrayal she did not expect. She pushed it from her mind for long years, until she covered it with both hands, pressing against her heart, to make it bitter.

She squeezed her fingers on the cup. His eyes were light brown, almost clear, his eyelashes were short, thick. Sharp facial features, perfect posture, Maleficent knew her father was handsome. She understood why mum fancied him, but she considered it a disadvantage. If Glackfor would not be so interested, the widow would not be her stepmother, she would not have a younger half-brother, she would not have seen what they did that night.

She closed her eyelids, obliterating the appearing scenes in her mind, opened them a few moments later and without a hurry, turned her gaze toward the window. None of them spoke yet, the tension between them increased, the customers were giving them a wide berth.

"I accepted the Brutus Malfoy's offer," he began, his voice soft and stiff. "On Christmas Eve we will announce his son's and your betrothal."

She released her lips from a grip she did not even know she done, and allowed her astonishment to appear on her face. They were close to the Malfoys, although there was never such a suggestion. Why now?

"Are not Lestrange and Black potential candidates?" she asked, shocked. She didn't speak of injustice, of his lack of decency, because she knew the world in which she lived. As a woman from a pureblood, respected family, she must get married. If she were a man, she would have to marry because of the heir and being a woman, because it was appropriate. Quarrels about such a thing would be a waste of time, nerves and wasting her breath. "Lestrange and I became so close. There have been many acts..."

"Maleficent!"

The girl burst out laughing. There was no bouncing of the bells or the fluttering of butterflies, no, Miss Travers did not laugh that way. Her laughter was dry, shockingly eerie. How could such a frightening sound come from such a lady? The tables close to them froze, so did Edgar Travers.

His little princess has changed over the years. She didn't admire the flowers, didn't run with a smile in the mansion, didn't spend time with him in the library. Meals she usually ate in her room, where she spent most of her days. She used to go out to the garden or to the main entrance to watch her mother's portrait. Since Eleonor had taken care of the garden and house, Maleficent had not set foot in any of the places the woman had changed, until she had been forced.

One of her greatest excesses was setting Eleonor on fire after the woman burned down the portrait of Daniella, the Maleficent's mother. Eleonor decided that this image didn't fit in with the new décor, and Daniella was no longer the Mistress of the House, so with the permission of the Master of the House, she was about to get rid of the portrait. But they didn't foresee Maleficent's anger. The witch, seeing what was happening with her mother's portrait, ran down the stairs and, despite a ban from the ministry, used a spell to extinguish the fire.

When it didn't work, she looked at her stepmother. The woman wore a winning smile, and Maleficent couldn't stand it. Glackfor had taken from her so much, she was doing what she desired, and her father did nothing about it, he agreed to her every request.

She didn't raise the wand, didn't say the spell, didn't even think of the formula. She pictured her stepmother in flames and a second later she burned. There was a panic in the mansion, Mister Travers appeared at the entrance. With horror in his eyes, he used the appropriate spell and ordered the elf to call the medics.

Eleonor was weeping, snuggling against Travers's robes, and when asked what had happened, she pointed at Maleficent. The young witch pushed her wand forward, toward her father, and said,

 _You can check my wand, I did not use another spell than Aguamenti on the mother portrait_ , the next question she answered with the same, mastered tone, _I cannot use magic outside Hogwarts, I'm not seventeen yet._

His wife was saved from scars and pain, thanks to his quick reaction and medical skills of healers. He was disturbed by the reaction of his daughter, but he had no evidence that she was the courser of Eleanor's injury. The older witch pressed for the punishment of the young girl for lack of help, although she had used magic before, though she should not. Here, Edgar had to agree to this, and at the persuasion of his wife, a good friend of her family had come to their home to deal with Maleficent and was doing it even now. They meet each winter and summer holidays, and with each of these meetings, Maleficent seemed to him more and more empty, soulless.

He ignored it for years, although after hearing her inhuman laughter, he was paralysed. When did he make a mistake? At what time?

"No sense of humour," she said, suppressing a chuckle. The brunette's left hand was resting on her black hat, she stroked the hat as if it was her pet. "I'm not interested."

"I do not ask you for an opinion, Maleficent. It has been already decided." he stammered.

"Of course," she snapped. "Then what else do you have to say to me?"

The man swallowed, took a deep breath and exhaled, then cleared his throat. He grasped his daughter's small hands in his. With a thumb, he was doing circles on her skin, preparing her for what was to come.

"You will have a younger sister. Eleonor is pregnant. We found out in August and will announce it on Monday."

Immediately, she took her hands away. On her face sour grimace, fists on the table, eyes thundering. The clamp that kept her haircut in place, fell to the ground, her hair free, floating in the air. The magic flowed through her, covered her heart, clenched the invisible claws on her father's throat.

For a few seconds there was no air in his lungs, and when he could breathe again, his daughter's face was dangerously close to him. He had never seen Maleficent like that before. Happy - yes, indifferent - yes, but never enraged.

"Even if I had to fry in hell, even if I'd lost all my magic, even if I would be put in Azkaban," she hissed so that only he could hear her."I'll slaughter your family. Eleonor and your unborn child. Only after you look at their corpses, on me stained with their blood, I will kill you. From today I am not your daughter, and you are not my father."

She stood up slowly, picked up the clamp, and did her hair up. She put on a coat and a hat, then left the inn without saying goodbye. After saying everything she wanted, the anger was weakening. The sun was covered by the dark clouds, and it would rain. She didn't want to go shopping, and her companions were not in sight, so she saw nothing amiss in a short walk on the edge of the Forbidden Forest.

Already near the border, she sat down on the tree trunk and began to observe the warning to not enter. Several dangerous creatures were mentioned. Maleficent was surprised to read about the werewolves because they should not live there.

"What occupies your attention, Maleficent?"

She didn't look away from the sign. She hoped Riddle couldn't see her little show with her father, and even if, he wouldn't mention it.

"I remembered the story my mum told me when I was a little girl. Would you like to hear it?" she asked, meeting his absorbed look.

"Why not?"

He sat down next to her, and Maleficent began to speak.

"Once upon a time, there dwelt a Witch in the Forbidden Forest. She was bored with the world of wizards and witches, which is why she lived in this mysterious place. The Witch became friends with many magical creatures, but something was missing, she still felt dissatisfaction, deficiency. She remained in monotony until she met the Beast. This Beast was one of the cruellest creatures in the Forest. He had huge wolf's body, yellow eyes and sharp claws. The Witch loved to tease the beast. She was a woman after all. And silly one on the top of that. She visited him every day, without giving up, believing that one day he would understand, what was a reason for her constant visits. One day the Beast had a request to Witch.

_Give me a voice, so I can talk to Men._

The Witch listened to the Beast's story about a good-hearted lass from the village, who not feared him and helped him when he needed it. There were scraps of material on his paw, and he seemed to be telling the truth.

_I will fulfil your wish. But every magic has its price, so in exchange for getting to know the human speech, you forget about the animal's. No creature living in this forest will be able to understand you, and you will not be able to understand them. Is that all right?_

The Beast agreed, and the next day he met the girl and thanked her for her care. The Witch watched them for a few days until she was tired of it. After a few weeks, the Beast visited her again. The Witch let him in, complaining when the Beast interrupted her.

_I have one more wish. I cannot embrace a girl with these claws. They may frighten her and she will leave me forever._

_So you want to change so much? The price for touching her will be the loss of claws. Is that all right?_

The Witch followed the Beast and watched as he fell in love with the girl.

 _Do you really want it?_ , she asked, _You cannot talk to anyone else, but her, you cannot hunt or defend yourself without the claws. Is she worth it?_

 _I'm happy now_ , he answered.

The Witch did not understand why the Beast had to change. So when he came with another wish, she hesitated. He told her as he tried to get into the village, where the girl lived, although because of his features, he could not do it.

_Turn me into a human. Please, only you can do it. I will be able to live with her in the village._

_If you turn into a human, you will never return to being a beast. This will be your last wish. Promise, that you will never appear again in my part of the forest. Is that all right?_

The Beast ran and ran until he reached the village. He was overjoyed. No one knew that he once was a Beast. He wondered, what the girl would say when she saw him in that form. He walked the streets of the village until he heard laughter. People gathered around a huge building and celebrated. He noticed a girl coming out from there with another man. She stood on her toes and kissed him on the lips. The Beast could no longer look at them, so he left the village, recalling the Witch's words.

_No creature living in this forest will be able to understand you, and you will not be able to understand them. Is that all right? You cannot talk to anyone else, but her, you cannot hunt or defend yourself without the claws. Is she worth it?_

The Beast understood that, if he had been himself for the whole time, he wouldn't meet the girl at all. His body began to change, and moments later he was again the Beast.

 _Why?_ , he asked after entering the Witch's cottage, despite her protests, _why did I change?_

_Foolish Beast! Not only you cannot keep your promise, you still hoped there was something real between you and the girl?_

_You said that every magic has its price._

_Of course! Who do you think I am?_

_Why do not you disappear like you always do? Why do you smell like a muggle?_

The Witch started weeping. She had no way of getting away, and the Beast was too close. She had to tell the truth.

_The price was my magic. I gave it up for you to become a Beast again if you and the girl couldn't be together._

_Why? Why did you do that?_

_Because I love you just the way you are, silly._

I do not remember the ending, but the moral was to be yourself. And it's a legend about how werewolves were born. Pretty pathetic story. I was looking for it in books, but I have not found anything."

"You call her pathetic, yet you remember almost the whole plot," he said."In Muggle fairy tales it ends with 'And they lived happily ever after'."

She put her mouth together, closed it, then let go, making a characteristic _pow_. Riddle certainly did not want Maleficent to capture his comment. The sentence came out of his mouth. before he could think about it.

He did not control himself and was not sure what was the reason. Maybe her magic, maybe her beauty or just her. She could not see how Malfoy and he put on a spell of invisibility. They listened intently to their conversation, and Riddle watched her every gesture.

Her gaze, her laughter, her proud face and threats. Maleficent was so similar to him, so cruel, so insensitive, and at the same time so different, so warm, so merciful. Riddle could not believe how much she was so conflicted and still functioning. He could not break into her mind, so she knew the art of occlumency. She did not try to break into the fortress of his memory, although this did not mean that she was not acquainted with legilimency.

He was more surprised when she did not recognize such a simple spell with such a magical background. The presence of her father may have affected her, and it is very important to control emotion when it comes to magic.

"I have not read a muggle book yet. Could you recommend something?" she asked. Maleficent is probably the only Slytherin, who did not pay attention to the status of blood. It owes to the upbringing of her mother and the views that have developed over the years. "You could be a muggle born and I would not pay attention to that. You have so much magic in you that I, the pureblood, envy you. Sometimes I even think that Muggle-born wizards should be stronger. Don't you think it's amazing? They don't know what magic is at first, their parents have no magical powers, and their children are born with them, and half-blooded wizards are purely theoretically supposed to have only half of that talent, and it often turns out to be better than the heir of the purest bloodline. Just look at Crabbe and Nacley. Nacley surpasses Crabbe, everyone knows that. I read about it in the book..."

She stopped, hearing laughter. She turned her head to fully grasp Riddle's laughter. And what a laughter it was. His head was tilted back, his eyes closed, his mouth tilted in amusement. He seemed to be free, not slaved by anything. Maleficent almost blushed.

She reached out and nearly touched his face to catch the fleeting moment, but quickly paused.

"You are impossible, Maleficent. I have no idea how you were sorted into Slytherin. Hufflepuff maybe would suit you more?"

"Don't joke like that!" She hit him lightly. Realizing what she had done, she stood up and stepped aside." It was a low blow. And please, smile like that more often, Riddle. Then I would like to cooperate with you more freely."

"Are you trying to seduce me, my Queen?" he grinned. She melted, seeing it.

 _When he became so tempting?_ she thought. She suppressed a giggle, hid her face in her hands, then extended her fingers so that her green eyes could meet the chocolate ones.

"It depends on whether it works, my Lord," she flirted, and she would continue to do so, if not for Malfoy's voice calling out to them. "Maybe we'll play another time."

She winked at him, then found herself beside the Slytherins. She was euphoric and after hearing a well-known tune from a nearby café, she began to move in its rhythm.

"Someone does not behave like a lady," Nott said, but quickly joined her.

"They also do not scheme with their peers to take over the magical world, but I still do so!"

They continued dancing, unaware of the conversation, that had taken place in their absence.

"I don't know how you did it, my Lord," whispered Abraxas. "I have not seen her like that for many years."

"I do not think it was my merit. It's because of the rebirth she experienced while talking to me."

"It doesn't matter," said Black. "Because this state won't last long."

 

**Notes for the Chapter:**

> comment and leave kudos! :)


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